


For the Sake of the Swings

by thatsoccercoach



Series: Which Door? [6]
Category: Outlander & Related Fandoms, Outlander Series - Diana Gabaldon
Genre: Domestic Bliss, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-10
Updated: 2018-04-10
Packaged: 2019-04-21 04:10:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 929
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14276607
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thatsoccercoach/pseuds/thatsoccercoach
Summary: Claire and Jamie and some...yardwork.





	For the Sake of the Swings

                                                            [](https://www.designmom.com/the-treehouse-family-swing-project/)

His duplex? Her apartment? They’d gone back and forth, literally and verbally, over the short time they’d known one another. Her place was closer to both the hospital and the fire station, but it was small for one person and terribly small for two. Also, it was in the city and while she didn’t mind that, Jamie didn’t care for it at all. His place on the other hand had a bit more space but also a bit longer drive. And it was next door to Frank Randall’s place. His place or her place? They quickly arrived at a simple conclusion: Their place.

So they’d found one.

It was a small, two-bedroom, single level rambler with a small yard out back. They were going to rent it until they decided what to do next. Jamie had a plan to save until they could buy a large piece of property with an old home they could restore. Claire didn’t mind as much where they ended up as long as they could do it together and it had a good kitchen. She really wanted a good kitchen.

Claire and Jamie both spent a large portion of their time outside. She was planting a garden in some raised beds. Primarily she focused on some low-maintenance herbs and a few vegetables while he used the construction of the garden or maintenance of the yard as a physical outlet. She actually found him one day, shirtless, doing chin-ups from the branch of one of their trees. That wasn’t a bad thing.

She thought he was likely working out in the yard right now. He still did that on occasion. He’d go into the yard and move her bags of potting soil from one end of the garden to the other all for the sake of “lifting weights” and using pent up energy. He’d done the same with crushed river rock last week as well. It sounded as if he was doing something much more aggressive today though. She shook her head and smiled to herself, amused at his choice to use their yard as his gym. There weren’t any projects that she needed his help on at the moment so she didn’t know exactly what it was he was attempting but the noise indicated he was working hard.

So today she was folding laundry while he was doing something in the yard. Suddenly there was a thump followed by a grunt and a string of Gaelic curses. He’d be coming in soon to be nursed back to health then, she smirked a bit. But he didn’t appear. More pounding came from out back followed by, _was that a drill?_ She definitely did not know what he was up to.

After a lengthy stretch of time he came in the back door, covered in sawdust and sporting a gash on his forehead over which he’d tied a strip of some ragged and decidedly unsanitary cloth in a terrible parody of a pressure bandage. She shook her head. “Come here you stubborn Scot.” She reached a hand out to him and led him to a chair in the kitchen which she scooted closer to their sink so she could properly clean him up. “What on earth have you been up to, getting all banged up like this? And whyever didn’t you let me take care of it immediately?” Her eyebrows were raised nearly to her hairline in exasperation.

“Och, ‘tis but a wee scratch,” he grinned impishly at her.

“‘Wee scratch’ my arse!” she shot back. “You’re lucky you’ve had all your vaccinations or I’d make you go get a tetanus shot! This should have had stitches but now you’ve waited too long.” She sighed and continued to clean him up so as to avoid any infection.

“Aye, well, I didna want to stop in the midst of what I was doing,” he looked a bit bashful, but not ashamed. She wanted to laugh at the sight.

“What was so important that you couldn’t possibly stop for first aid?” she sighed, rolling her eyes.

“Come see.”

* * *

“Jamie,” she brought her hands up to her face. “You built me a…”

“Aye,” he bashfully looked away. “‘Tis a wee swing. I had assembled most of it the other day and hoped that I’d finish afore ye had the day off work but I had to finish today,” the words tumbled out. “‘Tis a silly thing, really.”

“Oh, Jamie, no,” Claire’s face shone as she turned back to face him. “It’s lovely! I can’t wait to sit here with you in the swing you built in our garden!” She stood on tiptoe to kiss him sweetly. “But why the small swings?”

In addition to the hand-crafted bench style swing that hung from a thick branch of a well-established tree there were suspended approximately a half dozen smaller swings, spaced so as to eliminate any chance of collision. It was all completely charming.

“Och, for wee Jamie and his new sister. They’ll be wanting swings as well I reckon.”

“And all the others?” She paused, waiting for him to explain further.

“I thought maybe someday our bairns would want to swing as well.” He whispered to her, bringing her in close again.

“That’s a lot of swings, James Fraser,” she said in mock sternness.

“Aye, ‘tis,” he said with a smug expression. “And we need a bairn for each, so as much as ye want to swing, Sassenach, there’s other things as must be done first. For the sake of the swings, ye ken?”

“For the sake of the swings.”


End file.
